I have the itchiest feet

For brand new streets 

New faces 

Strange places.

New things I long to try

But how, when I’m so tied 

To a life that doesn’t feel like mine

In a place on borrowed time. 

I should’ve left 

When I knew it was best

Packed up like the rest 

So scared of life’s tests 

While others were right 
I am left, bereft. 

And yet. 

A seed. A well protected yearning 

That grows stronger 

With each year 

Each number. 

Another chance to make a change. 

Another chance to age 

With pride in choices that are mine. 

I’ll just give it more time 

Marinate in this hopeful skin crawling yearning 

Until there’s nothing left to do but move 

Fumigate my entire being 

And emerge anew. 

Risen. Cleansed. Raw and ready. 

To meet myself face to face 
And she’ll say 


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